Late Night Antics
by Mayhem N. Jeans
Summary: Corso Riggs starts realizing how much of a handful his new captain Tresse Finn is going to be. (Rated T for alcohol and sensuality)


It was getting late, Corso realized, with a small start. Tresse had left a few hours ago to burn off her steam. Though she hadn't said anything, Corso knew that Ryloth had disturbed her. It had been rough down there, he grimaced at the memories. He stayed on board the ship, cleaning out his rifle; all the pieces were laid out neatly on the table as he polished each one individually. After pacing nervously, twisting her hands and sighing, Tresse had finally announced she was going for a walk.

Corso knew if anyone could take care of themself, it would be Tresse, but he made a mental note to call her in fifteen minutes if she wasn't still back. She'd snap at him, scoffing him for being concerned, but he could deal with that. His captain was certainly a piece of work, with her shaved head and gruff attitude. Sometimes, when she thought no one was looking, Corso could see something in her blue eyes though- a look of wonder and sadness, a mournfully hopeful gaze that wanted to believe in a better world but didn't know where to go to find it. For a moment, she would stare out the window, searching the stars for a clue, until she suddenly snapped back to her usual hardened pilot self.

Just as he picked up the comlink, Corso heard the airlock open and close as someone came in. Then, there was a loud shuffling out in the living area of the ship as someone stumbled around. Even though he was 90% sure it was Tresse, he picked up his small pistol and quietly stepped out. The lights were off, making it almost pitch black. He definitely could see someone staggering in the shadows, though. Counting to three, he flicked on the lights.

Tresse groaned as the harsh light hit her eyes. Corso tried not to gasp. She looked terrible; the side of her face was swollen and mottled red, her clothes were torn, several of her shirt buttons torn away. Dirt and what may have been dried blood was crusted all over her, and there was a small gash on her hand.

"Captain! What happened to you?" he asked, tossing his blaster back into the storage room, and walking up to her. Even before he got to her, he could smell the stink of booze.

"Huh?" She looked at him with blurry eyes, "Oh, hey, Corso. Whatcha up ta?" her words were slurred and slow.

"Are you alright? You look bad,"

Tresse grinned clumsily at him, only half her smile working, "Nah…I feel great!" She flung her arms up over her head and spun, nearly falling over. He moved to steady her, but she caught herself in time, "Although, I'm a little…tipsy,"

"Right. Tipsy," Corso replied, crossing his arms. Sure, he wasn't above having a few occasional drinks himself, but Tresse was plastered. He hated when people got like this, it was downright shameful. Shaking his head, he remembered the look of devastation on her face after Ryloth, and somehow couldn't find it in his heart to blame her. Corso sighed; he'd better make some coffee. He'd been up half the night waiting for her and now he'd spend the other half taking care of her, "Come on, why don't you just have a seat?" He motioned to the couch where she could lay down for a little bit.

"Actually, Corso," she leaned into him, whispering loudly in his ear, her breath sour, "I'm so drunk!" then she giggled, blowing more foul air in his face.

"Drunk doesn't cover the half of it," He grabbed her shoulders to guide her down, but she just flopped against him.

"Men aren't nice," she mumbled, her bruised face buried in his neck. For a minute, she sighed in a way that sounded like she was about to cry. Corso wasn't sure what to say, but he grew angry. If some punk guy had tried to take advantage of her in her unstable state, well, Corso would teach that scum a lesson. Although, if Tresse's injuries were any indication, he was sure that a lesson had already been taught. Even wasted, he knew she was still a dangerous person to reckon with, "You're the only nice one, Corso," Tresse continued. As she talked, he could feel the barest brush of her lips against the skin on his neck. _Uh oh_, he thought, his heart racing a little faster.

To say he wasn't attracted to the Captain would be a lie. She was clever, witty, and striking. He could tell she shaved her head to hide something, but while it unnerved others, he found that it only showcased her bottomless blue eyes. Tresse acted like she just was out for profit, but he knew she would help anyone who really needed her, even at her own costs. Her smile, white and crooked, was easy and honest, though a little mischievous sometimes. There was a lot more to her than she let on, and he wanted to know everything about her.

But right now, as drunk as she was, this wasn't how he wanted things, "Uh, Captain? You aren't yourself right now, you need to go, take a cool shower, and lay down. I'll make you some caf, and you'll be fine in the morning," He gently pushed her away from him, and turned her in direction of the fresher. Tresse walked where he pointed her, dazed slightly but obedient. She closed the door behind her. As he pulled the caf maker out from under the kitchen counter, he could hear her retching, but soon the shower was going.

Tresse finished almost the same time as the caf, so he set out her mug on the table in front of the couch. "Corso?" she called out to him from the shower.

"Yes, Captain?"

"I need clothes, can you get some from my room?" Her voice was sharper now, more aware, "Top drawer, then the middle one, please,"

He never had gone into her room before, "Sure thing," He called back, and then headed around the corner to the Captain's Cabin. Pushing open the door, Corso was surprised to smell a warm sweet perfume. The room was small and sparse, the bed with the covers messily strewn across where she had left them. Beside the bed was a little table with a shiv knife laying on top next to a glass of old water and a holonovel. Out of curiosity, he picked the book up. It was one of those classic old ones that kids read in school, something in between a comic and a novel. Corso never was much of a reader, but the title, _Star Rider_, was familiar. The dresser was across from the foot of the bed, and he pulled open the top drawer.

Corso blinked in surprise at the colorful pile of panties inside of it. She never struck him as the fancy underwear type. Gingerly, he picked up the least nerve-wracking pair and tossed them onto the bed. In the middle drawer were some stretchy black pants and bright tee shirts. Grabbing a pair of each, folding the panties in between them, Corso quickly went back to the fresher to deliver them to Tresse.

"Come in," Tresse answered as he knocked.

Corso pushed the door open, 'Here you go, Captain- oh, man!" he clapped his hand over his eyes. There, Tresse was standing in all her stark glory, hands on her hips. Blindly, he tossed her clothes in what he hoped was her general direction, and backed out as quickly as he could. Slamming the door shut, he breathed shakily as he tried to regain control, his heart pounding and knees wobbling. He should have been more prepared and on his guard; that was more of Tresse than he was planning on ever seeing. Though he had only had a tiny glance, the image was now burned into his mind. "_Steady, steady, steady_," he whispered to himself as he slowly calmed down.

"Corso?" Tresse asked, suddenly beside him. He jumped up, startled. She was now wearing the clothes he'd given her, though the shirt was wet. Wet enough that he could…Corso shook his head, looking away, "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," He answered quickly, still not looking at her, "Just embarrassed,"

"That's cute," She placed her hand on his shoulder, watching him with a curious, smoldering look on her face. He glanced down at her hand and saw it was the gashed one.

"Uh," he struggled to take his mind off what had just happened, "We ought to get some dressings on that hand. Go sit down and I'll get the bandages,"

"Sure thing…_Doctor Riggs" _Tresse replied with a smirk. She was still quite drunk, he noted grimly. Taking care of her was certainly turning out to be quite a job.

When Corso came into the living room, Tresse was slumped over on the couch, lightly snoring. Sitting next to her, he picked up her injured hand and carefully applied a salve, then wrapped the bandage tape around the wound. It looked like a knife slash, like she'd used her hand to ward off a strike. His stomach twisted at the thought of what trouble she'd gotten into. If what had happened in the past fifteen minutes was any indication, he was sure it was pretty crazy. Corso was glad she'd made it home at all.

As he sat there a minute, wondering about his mysterious Captain, she rolled in her sleep, resting her head on his chest, pinning his arm down. She seemed pretty much entirely asleep. His long seeded curiosity took over and ever so carefully, he brushed his hand along the top of her shaved head. Soft, smooth, and warm, just as he would have thought. Tresse smiled faintly, nestling under his arm, curling up beside him. Watching her sleep was making him tired, too, and after a couple minutes of having her warm body against his, he dozed off himself.

Groggy, Tresse was aware she was not alone. She had no idea exactly where she was, her head pounding and mouth dry. Beneath her cheek, she could feel a strong body, breathing deep and steady. _Damn_, she groaned, slowly sitting up. Whoever she was with smelled nice at least- blaster oil and soap. Tresse noticed she was wearing her pajamas. She was back aboard her ship. And that she knew that smell…

"_Corso_?" she whispered, but he still slept soundly, snoring. Corso's head was tilted, had been resting on top of hers, with one arm draped over her shoulder. He looked admittedly adorable, splayed out on the couch, conked out, "Cripes," Tresse pulled herself away from him. This was embarrassing. She tried to remember the last thing she could, but her head hurt too much for any complicated thought processes.

As carefully as she could to keep her head from moving too much more, she sat up. Beside her, Corso stirred, slowly waking up, "Um…" he mumbled, wiping the sleep from his eyes. Then he looked at her, color flushing up into his cheeks, "Captain? You feeling better?" he asked.

"Hangover," she answered, "What did we do last night?"

"_We_," he said, "Didn't do anything. However, _you_, on the other hand…" his voice trailed off.

"That bad?"

"I don't even know, really," Corso shrugged, face still blushing, "But let's just say I was relieved when you passed out,"

Tresse moaned, leaning over to put her head between her knees, "Cripes…Thanks, Corso, I'm sorry,"

"No problem, Captain," He paused a moment, unsure of what else to say, "I was just showing you that some men are nice,"

She jerked up, turning to him, a strange look in her eyes, "_What_?" Then she winced at the increased pain in her head from the sudden movement,

"Last night, you were talking about how men aren't nice," He hesitated again, like he was remembering something else, too. Tresse hoped she hadn't traumatized the poor farm boy too much with her foolish escapade, "I'm just gonna get you some tonic and head ache meds," he quickly got up and went to the kitchen.

Waiting for him, Tresse laid her head down on the arm of the couch. Slowly, she was remembering bits and pieces, but the image that stuck the most was Caldron's face when he realized he wasn't going to be rescued. Her heart began to ache again, hot tears stinging behind her eyes, "I'm sorry," she whispered to him again.

Tresse closed her eyes, images flashing across, not all of them from just last night. Cruel laughter, the sound of lock being broken, three shadows so tall and threatening, pain and panic, tears, can't run can't move can't breathe can't scream…She forced her eyes open. Corso came back and set a glass of blue tonic and two small pills on the table in front of her. Avoiding his questioning gaze, she quickly picked up the pills and swallowed them, chugging the tonic down. The tonic was overwhelmingly minty, but already her head was clearing up.

"So…anything you want to talk about?" Corso asked, twisting his fingers nervously as he sat down next to her.

"No," she replied quickly, shaking her head, "Thanks, Corso, this probably shouldn't happen again," Tresse stood up, running her hand over her bare scalp. Hesitating a moment, she wondered if maybe she could tell Corso about everything, not just last night, but what happened that one night and why she wore her head shaved. He, if anyone, would listen to her. Corso would let her tell her pitiful tale of woe, quietly nodding. And after her story, he would sit there a moment, clenching his fist. Then he would take her into his strong arms, saying nothing, and hold her.

Tresse shook her head. She didn't need comfort. She just was having a small lapse, due to all the stress. In a few days, she would be perfectly fine again, no point in opening up a door that was best left locked. Ignoring his questioning gaze, Tresse walked to her room, shutting the door behind her.

Corso sighed. For a second, he thought the captain was going to tell him something, but she changed her mind. Maybe someday he'd have this mystery of a woman figured out. Of course, that would take some of the fun out of being with her, he decided, so he won't pry into her private life.


End file.
